Now You See Me
by toxic-blur
Summary: Sam wishes he could just be invisible sometimes. But when he actually gets his wish, it changes everything. Eventual Sam/Finn. Rated T, for now.
1. The 3I

A/N: I don't even know what this is. I was super tired yesterday and I wrote down a basic outline for this before I passed out. Let me just say that if this is totally weird, I blame it on too much Pepsi Max and not enough sleep. Review if you want me to continue. :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee.

Chapter One: The 3I.

Sam had always known he was a little bit strange. Before all of the rigorous workouts, he had been a gangly, awkward kid. His love of all things nerdy had painted a perma-target on his back, it seemed, and he had been the frequent recipient of spitballs to the back of the head and taunts about his appearance since the third grade. It wasn't a new thing, this feeling of wanting to disappear. That's why he wasn't as surprised as he probably should have been the first time it happened.

He was standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bathroom, peering at himself through the steam that was still swirling through the air after his shower. Recalling the cruelest of that day's taunts, Sam's eyes burned as a sudden onslaught of tears threatened to overtake him. He squeezed them shut tightly, feeling the overwhelming urge to just disappear.

When his eyes flickered back open a few moments later, Sam gasped. He was looking directly at what definitely should have been his reflection, but nothing was there. His mouth was agape as he slowly waved his hand in front of the mirror, as though he could conjure his image back up. Sam froze there for awhile, staring at nothing. Or more precisely, staring at the reflection of the Star Wars shower curtain that was behind him. He stayed that way for awhile, wondering if it was more likely that he was dreaming, insane, or just even weirder than he thought. He decided to test it out.

Sam stepped out into the hallway and called out, "Hey, Mom, could you c'mere for a second?" He heard his mom shuffling across her bedroom floor and a few seconds later a petite blonde woman appeared in the doorframe. She looked down the hallway and frowned.

"Sammy?" she called out, looking perplexed. "Are you in your room, kiddo?"

Sam's heart raced. She was looking right at him and couldn't see him. He wasn't imagining this. He wasn't sure why he didn't tell her right then, except that he knew she'd probably faint, and that seemed like something that should be avoided. Besides, sci-fi nerd that he was, he knew that when things like this happened to people they usually ended up being poked and prodded in a lab somewhere, and the prospect of that made him shiver. So instead he softly padded over to his bedroom and waited until he was safely inside to respond. "Yeah, Mom. Nevermind, I found what I was looking for."

Three hours passed before he saw himself again. He was fourteen then, and over the next few months the invisibility came and went sporadically, always during times of intense emotional upset. As time progressed, he started to identify the feelings associated with it and could predict when it was about to happen, and eventually, he taught himself how to trigger it at will. Controlling the duration of the episodes was more of a challenge, but after much practice in the privacy of his bedroom, he had it almost perfected by the summer of his sixteenth birthday. It was sort of ironic, Sam thought, that learning that he could go invisible at any moment somehow bolstered his confidence the way it did. He couldn't fully understand it, but in the few weeks that followed the initial invisibility incident (Sam called it the 3I), the feeling of disbelief eventually relented to the most wonderful feeling of freedom that Sam had ever known. Slowly but steadily, he broke out of his own comfort zone. He started working out, and shortly thereafter he joined the football team. He was just starting to gain control of both his social life and his invisibility methods, one probably directly because of the other. But then a week after that pivotal sixteenth birthday, he found himself seated at the kitchen table across from his mother. She looked uneasy, and Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her look that way. He braced himself for some kind of sad news, like maybe some relative he barely knew had died. He watched her expectantly.

She began with trepidation. "Sammy, I didn't tell you sooner because I wanted to wait until I knew for sure, but I applied for a position as an assistant editor for an up-and-coming political magazine that has a lot of potential for success, and I got it. And they said that if I'm as good as they think I am, I could be their Senior Editor within a year's time. It's kind of a really big deal. The only thing is, baby, we're going to have to move."

Sam stared at her for a moment before asking. "M-move where, exactly?"

His mom sighed and looked down at the table. She already knew how this was going to go. "Lima, Ohio."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Like the bean?"

She just nodded.

"But, Mom, things are just starting to be really awesome here, and I can't j-" he abruptly stopped as he saw the utterly dejected look on his mom's face. No matter what, he loved her more than anything, and he absolutely couldn't stand to see her upset. "On second thought, Lima sounds cool." He flashed her his best grin, and she beamed in return.

"It'll be great, Sammy. I promise." she said, getting up from the table and kissing his forehead before she left the kitchen.

Somehow, he doubted that.


	2. Be A Titan

**A/N:** I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this! I didn't know where I wanted to go with it. I've decided to keep everything pretty true to show canon, except for the obvious things (Sam having powers, eventual Sinn). I'm also not gonna do the homeless Sam storyline — I apologize if you think it's too canon to leave out, but it hits me a little too close to home to include it. — Also, in case it isn't evident, Mike is going to be a huge part of this story. Puck, too, even though I don't mention him in this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee.

"Sam, hurry up! If we don't leave in five minutes you'll be late, kiddo."

Sam rolled his eyes and grunted a response as he continued his attempts to make his newly-bright-blonde hair look flawless. He was about to experience his first day at McKinley, and he was dead set on looking good while doing it. In less than fifteen minutes he'd be charging through those double doors looking like a badass in his blue letterman jacket — he didn't care that it was irrelevant as a status symbol at his new school; it made him feel more confident when he wore it — with just enough swagger to let everybody know he wasn't one to be messed with.

It didn't matter if it wasn't true. Nobody knew that. He'd be the new kid; an unknown. He could be whatever he wanted to be. And if the people at this school were anything like the ones at his last — and why wouldn't they be? — he'd need to be someone other than himself. Because despite his recent popularity at his old school, he never truly felt like he belonged. He'd stopped wearing the comic book t-shirts. He'd stopped talking about Star Wars and doing random impersonations. But no matter what lengths he went to in order to fit in, it felt like his new crowd still looked at him like he was the same nerd he'd always been, with the exception that now he could play football like a BAMF.

It would be different this time. He'd be different. Popularity was never something he'd longed for growing up. It wasn't until he achieved it that he realized how vital it actually was. As soon as he made the football team, the taunts he'd almost gotten used to miraculously stopped. People who had been absolute shits to him were suddenly patting him on the back in the hallway between classes saying, "Hey, man!" like they were old friends. Even though they never really did fully accept him as one of their own, the blatant bullying had ceased, and it just felt good. It felt like vindication. And Sam knew, no matter where he went, that being popular would be essential to his survival.

* * *

><p>Aside from the novelty of being in character as a badass and a brief moment of panic when he couldn't find his first period class, the day had been rather uneventful— until free period. He was sitting out in the courtyard, quietly observing the various social cliques when a tall kid holding a boom box caught his eye. He was joined by a few other kids dressed in matching t-shirts. As they sang and danced to "Empire State of Mind", more kids in the same t-shirts flooded the courtyard. Sam had seen some videos on youtube of flash mobs, but seeing it in person was something else. It was epic. Kind of weird, but epic.<p>

His gaze locked on the tall boy again. He must have stood out to Sam because he was gigantic compared to the others. And if it wasn't that, maybe it was his awkward dance moves.

There had been boys like him back home. The good-looking, charismatic, boy-next-door type. In his experience, these guys weren't the best ever. They weren't necessarily the ones who picked on Sam, but they also never bothered to try to stop the ones who did. And if you asked him, that was almost just as bad.

Sam tapped his foot along with the music, transfixed to the point that he was somehow unaware that he'd yet to take his eyes off of the tall boy, who was now looking back at him. They made eye contact, and the tall boy grinned at him before darting to the other side of the stairs.

Sam looked around at the rest of the performers, then at the other students in the courtyard, most of whom didn't seem to be paying much attention to what was going on around them. He redirected his attention to the flash mob kids and found that, once again, the tall boy was watching him. This time it left him feeling uneasy. Did he look weird or something? Was there something that made him stand out for some reason?

The letterman jacket. That must be it. He'd stubbornly refused to take it off so far, for some reason feeling more secure inside of it. But maybe the bright blue and yellow of some other school's colors was making him stand out a little bit too much. He made a mental note to find out as much as he could about McKinley's football team. Maybe he wouldn't stick out like a boner if he was in red and white.

* * *

><p>The last class of the day was over, and Sam was at his locker grabbing his things when he saw a boy in a red and white letterman a few lockers down. Before Sam could even think of anything to say, the boy had already walked over to him.<p>

"Hey," the boy said, smiling curiously as he eyed Sam's letterman. "You're new, right?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Sam said, sticking his hand out automatically. "Sam Evans."

The boy reached out and shook his hand. "Cool. I'm Mike. Mike Chang."

There was an awkward pause for a few beats before Mike spoke again. "So, you play football?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Well, I used to. I was the quarterback at my old school in Tennessee."

Mike grinned. "Nice. You thinking of joining the Titans?"

"Not sure yet. How's your quarterback?" Sam asked.

Mike shrugged. "He's good. He's right over there, by the way, if you wanna size him up or whatever you quarterbacks do."

Sam looked in the direction that Mike was pointing in, and he froze as his eyes locked on the tall boy from the courtyard. _Of course he's the fucking quarterback._

"Finn Hudson." Mike said, watching Sam watching Finn. "And the pretty brunette in the knee socks is his girlfriend, Rachel Berry."

Sam nodded. "Cool. So, anyway, it looks like you guys won't be needing a quarterback."

Mike shrugged. "You should try out for another position. Or, hey, you could be a backup. Finn is kind of clumsy; you'd probably get to play a lot more than you think."

Sam half-smiled and closed his locker. "I'll think about it."

* * *

><p>He was still thinking about it that night as he lay awake in bed, staring up at his ceiling. On the one hand, Sam liked football. It made him happy. But then, he wasn't sure if he was really interested in any position other than quarterback; it was the only one he'd ever played, and he was damn good at it. And he couldn't force himself to even conceive of being a benchwarmer. He'd had to let a backup go in for him on more than one occasion at his old school, back when his power was new enough that on some days, simply controlling it took all of his energy and focus. And even though that kid's face lit up when he found out he was finally getting some field time, it didn't matter to Sam, because that happiness had been preceded by what must have felt like a lifetime riding a bench. Sam wanted no part of that.<p>

And it wasn't exactly like Sam had his power entirely figured out now, either. He knew for sure that it was affected by his emotions; most of his serious malfunctions had occurred when he was upset about something. He was working on controlling it, but it was hard. If he didn't anticipate the change in his emotional state, he might flicker or disappear altogether before he could stop it. He knew, because that exact thing had happened in front of a little kid at a park back in Tennessee; the kid ran away screaming, and Sam bolted before the kid could come back with a concerned parent. After that, Sam started paying more attention not only to his own emotions, but also to the specific feeling that he related to going invisible. If he could attune himself to all of it, then he'd have full control over his ability. But it was a work in progress, and Sam wasn't sure if he trusted himself to be in the spotlight at a new school while his turbulent teenage emotions threatened to short-circuit what little control he had.

And then there was that boy. Finn. He couldn't quite place exactly what it was, but something about him made Sam feel weird. Was it the kind of weird that would cause him to suddenly disappear in the middle of a football game? Sam wasn't sure. He decided that sleeping on it sounded like the best option, though, and he curled up with his Yoda pillow — it was a _pillow_, not a stuffed animal — hugged close to his chest and fell asleep.

He woke up at 3am with a sleepy grin on his face. He couldn't exactly remember the dream he'd just had, but it was something about football and it was incredible. He made a blind grab for a pen and paper and wrote himself a reminder:

_Don't think. Just do. And be a Titan._


End file.
